


Authority

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Bujold
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregor as a cadet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Authority

'Best not to go that way, Sire. It's extremely muddy.'

Gregor hadn't seen the ImpSec sergeant appear from his cover, but he showed no visible surprise. For one thing, he knew better, and for another, ImpSec had been a complete pain about this part of the course.

He turned, automatically polite. It was Sergeant Doult. It would be. It must be much easier to be an usurper, Gregor often thought. Easier to arrive on the Imperial throne a full-grown adult, victor of a war, able to assert yourself as you wished. His grandfather's bodyguards had not known him since he was a baby, had not watched blank-faced whilst he was scolded by his aunt for rudeness, had not cheerfully covered up for him when he broke a window with a stray snowball. ImpSec, he thought, was like nothing so much as five hundred hyper-protective mothers with a single small boy to look after, and Sergeant Doult was one of the most maternal.

'Muddy,' he said. 'Really.'

'Yes, Sire, waist-deep at least. I recommend you take the more northerly route.'

Gregor rechecked his compass and map. 'We're supposed to go this way.'

'Yes, but it would be unsuitable for you to arrive plastered with mud, in your position-'

'It's just mud,' Gregor snapped. 'Not, I presume, Cetagandan death-mud?'

'Er, no, Sire.' Sergeant Doult looked a little hurt, and Gregor immediately felt bad. Lady Cordelia had strong things to say about speaking unkindly to people who were forbidden by law and custom from snapping back at him. Nonetheless, a vision formed in his mind of himself, arriving at base camp with the other cadets, every one of them covered in mud, whilst Gregor looked like he was going on parade. They all would know why, and none of them would say anything about it. He cringed.

'Thank you, but I'll go this way.'

When he reached base camp, he was muddier than any other cadet.


End file.
